12 Days of Christmas
by JinnySkeans
Summary: Christmas Anthology Series. #4: SasuSaku, WWII AU. The days stretch and strain, and still no word from the frontlines. New York City is empty without him, and so is her heart.
1. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Pushover

Title : _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Pushover_

Description : Why you should never watch children's TV specials under the influence of the Christmas spirits.

Pairings : None

Category : Friendship/Humor

Notes : I love Christmas, and I love Sakura/Ino friendship, and I love you.

* * *

"No," Sakura said flatly, seizing the remote from Ino's perfectly-manicured hand. "Absolutely not. I'm not watching this shit another second."

Ino's eyes widened in fury, and she grabbed the remote right back.

"Are you kidding me? Forehead, it's _Christmas._ More specifically, it's _Christmas Eve._ And we have a tradition. And that tradition is to get hammered on egg nog and sake and watch Rudolph. What the hell is the matter with you."

"I will honor the first part of that tradition," Sakura retorted, pouring herself a liberal amount of Nog-a-Sake, "but we can't give patronage to Rudolph one more minute of our lives."

Ino sighed, and sank back against the pillows. She recognized Sakura's tone: militant to the point of ridiculousness, and knew the best thing to do would be to let her best friend blow off whatever steam she had building in that massive forehead of hers. "All right, I'll bite. Why can't we watch Rudolph anymore?"

Sakura smirked victoriously and replied, "Because it's a glorification of bullying, physical discrimination, and why Santa is a big fat jerk."

Ino groaned.

"Let's just go over it, shall we? Fine-tooth comb that shit, yafeelme? First, okay, Rudolph is born. And he's happy and healthy and his parents love him, until they see that his nose is red. And who even fucking cares, okay? It's a nose. It's red. They're reindeer. They should be grateful that he wasn't born with any diseases, and now they can easily tell him apart from all the other reindeer."

"Is the plural of reindeer 'reindeer?'" Ino mused. "Or is it 'reindeers?'"

"I think it's just 'reindeer.'"

"Hmm. It sounds weird. Whatever, Forehead, keep going."

"Yeah. Okay, so his parents are like ashamed of Rudolph for having some physical trait he can't control, and that they disagree with. And then Santa rolls in and goes, 'oh snap, Rudolph. A red nose? I hate that. Make sure you cover it up.' Okay, and that's _Santa,_ all right? _Santa Claus_ comes to Rudolph's house and is so disgusted by his appearance that he makes his parents cover up his nose so it won't offend him anymore. Again, that's _Santa Claus._"

Ino absolutely hated her best friend, mainly because Sakura's habit of debunking beloved family folk tales nearly always made her a believer. And Ino didn't want to dislike the things she loved growing up. Already Sakura had ruined The Wizard of Oz, by pointing out that Dorothy was little more than a mass murderer and the Wicked Witch of the West only wanted her dead sister's shoes back; last Christmas, she'd laid into Frosty the Snowman for being a magic hat thief; and on a daily basis, she maimed Twilight to a point so unrecognizable, Ino couldn't so much as look at the book cover without thinking things like 'terrible role model,' 'abusive relationship,' and 'awful so fucking awful.'

And now, she was well on the way to ruining Rudolph for her as well.

"So anyway," Sakura continued, scooping out a spoonful of chocolate marshmallow ice cream and sliding it into her mouth, "yeah. So Rudolph grows up feeling inadequate compared to everyone else. And his parents, and everyone else's parents, and his teacher at school all make him feel like shit just because he looks different than the other reindeer. So the other reindeer's children inherit their parents' prejudice, and so they don't let him join in their reindeer games. What a great message to pass onto our children. 'Hey, kids. If someone looks different than you, make sure you never include them and also ridicule them.'"

Ino pinched the bridge of her nose, but Sakura kept going.

"So basically Rudolph runs away from home to live in some commune or something, with other creatures people discriminated against for no apparent reason. And blah blah blah, one night it's foggy. Okay? So then Santa's like, 'oh, snap, Rudolph. Your nose glows so now you're useful to me. Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?'"

"Damn it, Forehead, you always do this!" Ino moaned. "You make me feel sympathy for things, and slowly, systermically ruin my childhood!"

"I'm at the finish line, don't interrupt! Right, okay, Rudolph now has the opportunity to exact most delicious revenge…"

"I think Sasuke's rubbing off on you."

"_Quiet._ He can totally stick it to Santa and to everyone else at the North Pole by saying, 'you know what, you fat discriminatory bastard? You can suck my red-nosed rein-DICK because this year, I'm staying home. And you can explain to all the children in the world that they're not getting presents this year, and why. Asshole.'"

"That would be a rather shocking TV special."

"Yeah, and it would have been rewarding. Everyone who's ever been bullied would be able to relate to Rudolph, and would realize that the only way to stop a bully is to stand up to one. But instead, Rudolph pulls this ridiculous bitch move, bends over and lets Santa have his way with him. Instead of pointing out that his whole life, everyone at the North Pole hated him, until he was useful? And we're supposed to believe that now everyone got over their bias against Rudolph, and he's completely chill with everything they did to him all his life? 'Yes, Santa, I'd love to help!' Fuck outta here with that shit. I would've been like, 'Hell, no, you fat racist. You can drive a one-horse open sleigh to hell. And I will have Rudolph Christmas all to myself.' It's really a terrible move if you think about it, Hogulous."

Ino stared at her best friend, mouth agape; moments passed, and Ino shook her head, turned off the TV, and laid down.

"Just add Rudolph to the list of things you've massacred for me," she sighed. "Good night. Merry fucking Christmas."

Next year, she would make sure they both got together for their Christmas Eve sleepover, and they would make Nog-a-Sakes and have big big piles of ice cream. And they would watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and hopefully, _hopefully_ Sakura would find nothing wrong with _that._

"And don't even get me _started_ on the Grinch, Ino."

* * *

**note..** i like rudolph, i do. but if you really watch that shit? dayum. that story wouldn't fly nowadays. santa is kind of a dick, if you think about it.

anyway, yeah, there's the first entry in the christmas anthology. i'll have twelve out by christmas. various pairings, various themes, various subjects, but all of them about christmas. if you fave/follow/enjoy/despise, i'd love to hear about it. thanks for reading, love you guys :)

xoxo daisy


	2. The Gift of the Magi

Title : The Gift of the Magi

Description : Sometimes, it really IS the thought that counts.

Pairings : Naruto/Hinata, light Sasuke/Sakura, Kiba/Ino

Category : Romance

Notes : I love Christmas.

* * *

You would think being an international war hero would mean certain…monetary advantages.

Naruto sighs as he shuffles through the chilly streets of Konoha, dejected because he is, to use the layman's phrase, _completely broke._

And at Christmas, and with so many, many friends to buy gifts for, being broke is one of the worst things you can be.

Granted, he isn't alone; most of the money in Konoha is going straight to rebuilding, after Pein's attack months before, and of course to the hospital, which still needs some major reconstruction. Not to mention, all the wounded shinobi and kunoichi, home from the war, from Konoha and from many of the neighboring villages, still require medical care. Without a second thought, Naruto, like many of the other shinobi and kunoichi on the pay roster, has given up a lot of his mission pay to help out any way he can. Times are financially tight in Konoha.

Unless, of course, you are an _Uchiha,_ like his frustrating best friend, who despite giving a _substantial_ amount of money to the Hokage for renovation and restoration efforts around the village, still is, to use the layman's phrase, _completely loaded._ Sasuke is the sole inheritor to the vast Uchiha Clan fortune, and even after several years of defection, is still one of the richest people in Konoha.

Naruto happens to be very close to _another_ rich person in Konoha. Very, very close.

Hyuuga Hinata is, for all points and purposes, his girlfriend. In everything but name, because Naruto is still not entirely sure how to go about making things official with the daughter of one of Konoha's most powerful, eminent Clans. It isn't the same as dating a civilian girl, or even a kunoichi with civilian parents; to Naruto's knowledge, all Sasuke had done to get Sakura was shove a flower in her face and tell her to be ready at eight o'clock.

Naruto pictures doing the same thing to Hinata-chan. Just as vividly, he pictures the bruises her father and cousin would leave on him, and shivers in a way that had nothing to do with the early winter wind.

Dating a Hyuuga means following certain rules, and Naruto knows he hasn't been given a rule book. He is expected to figure things out on his own, but one mistake and Hiashi will withhold his blessing to be with Hinata forever.

He will need to buy something _really_ special for her. Not only does she deserve nice things, but he wants her to know that he is serious about her. That this isn't just some fun, aftermath-of-a-really-awful-war fling. (Naruto has learned quickly that a lot of babies were conceived immediately after a war. Tenten is already starting to show.)

No, he wants the whole enchilada from Hinata, and he has to make sure her family knew that, too.

He resolves to get her the best Christmas present ever. And when Naruto makes promises, he sees that they are kept. But this time, maybe he is in a little over his head.

He has almost no money, and it is only two days until Christmas. How is he supposed to find something impressive enough for an heiress of the Hyuuga Clan with those two facts working against him?

* * *

Sasuke, at Ichiraku that night, tucking into a boring meal of rice and stewed tomatoes, is less than helpful.

"I don't care, dobe," he mutters without even looking up. It's too cold for the sleeveless shirt, thin training pants and armguards he's wearing, and Naruto knows Sakura-chan will yell at him if she sees him so underdressed.

"What d'you mean, you don't care?" Naruto snaps. "This is _serious!_ You're supposed to be my best friend! I'd help you with Sakura-chan's present if you asked me to!"

"I don't need your help," Sasuke replies smoothly, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I already got it."

Naruto is furious that not only does Sasuke not seem to have any problem hunting for a gift for his girlfriend, but he's beaten Naruto to the punch as well. Glaring at his terrible best friend, he finds that in his stress, he isn't even hungry enough for ramen.

"Look, man, you're from a rich snooty clan and so is Hinata-chan, so you've gotta know some insider trade secrets! Spill 'em! I'm desperate here!"

"The Hyuuga Clan is _nothing_ like the Uchiha Clan," Sasuke snaps haughtily. His blind pride in his family has diminished somewhat over the years, but Naruto knows he shouldn't push it too far. Sasuke is still an arrogant asshole with no signs of changing.

"You know what I mean! Hinata-chan's not like ordinary girls, she's not like _Sakura-chan…_"

"Nothing about Sakura is ordinary." Sasuke's voice is a bit defensive, and Naruto realizes how badly that came out.

"That's not what I mean!" he says hastily, waving his hands. "Sakura-chan's the best, believe it! I just meant that her parents are civilians, so there's not a million hoops you have to jump through just to impress her family. Have you _seen_ the way Hiashi-sama looks at me? There's no way he'll let me date Hinata-chan for real unless I pull something huge off for her, and I only have two days and I'm broke! What am I supposed to do?"

"This is _your_ problem, not mine," Sasuke replies smugly. "Just think of all the money you've blown on ramen at this place."

Naruto groans, smacking his forehead. His best friend is a big giant jerk, but he has a point; Naruto doesn't want to think about how much of his hard-earned money had gone to bowls and bowls of ramen this past year alone, meals he'd eaten so quickly he almost couldn't even taste the noodles as he swallowed them. The sum would no doubt be staggering, and more than enough to buy Hinata-chan a present so awesome, it would impress even Hiashi-sama.

Sasuke finishes his dinner and pushed the empty plate towards Teuchi, who along with Ayame, is clearly listening in.

"Sometimes, Naruto," Ayame says shyly, "it's not necessarily how much money you spend. It's all about the gesture."

"The gesture?" Naruto asks, while Sasuke scoffs condescendingly beside him. "What do you mean, the gesture?"

"She means that sometimes," Teuchi clarifies for his daughter, "women appreciate the thought behind a gift more than the gift itself."

"So what are you saying?" Naruto feels dumb as he asks it, and Sasuke's chuckling at this point, so amused by his best friend's romantic ineptitude that it's manifesting itself in something frighteningly similar to a laugh. At first Naruto thinks it isn't helping anything, but then he realizes that all Sasuke's smug condescencion is doing is motivating him to find the answer.

Just like always, Naruto realizes he's turning this into a contest.

"Why don't you do something nice for Hinata-chan?" Ayame suggests. "I'm sure she would appreciate a nice gesture more than some showy present."

Naruto thinks on that for a minute, then grins widely, because he _gets_ it. It's about a gesture. Ayame-chan's right. And Naruto wants to prove to Hinata-chan that she's his number one, more important than anything else in his life.

And that, he realizes wistfully, includes ramen.

Naruto thinks about the fancy, expensive jade chopsticks sitting on a shelf at home, collecting dust, and knows exactly where he's going to get the money to buy Hinata-chan the present of her life.

* * *

"So I w-w-was thinking," Hinata says awkwardly, "that m-maybe…I would m-make something for N-Naruto-kun this Ch-Christmas."

"But…you're loaded," Ino remarks, confused. "Why make him something when you have more than enough money to go buy him something?"

"I think it's sweet!" Sakura protests. "The gesture is always more important than the gift itself!"

Ino flashes the diamond bracelet Kiba bought for her birthday, and smirks in response.

Three young kunoichi are three young girls on their days off, and they walk together through the market, chatting about everything and nothing. Hinata loves being a kunoichi, but she also loves coming home and putting that part of her life behind her for awhile, and sitting with her girlfriends while they wax poetic about the world.

"Seriously," Ino says. "Why go through all the effort of making something, when you can just as easily buy him the greatest present he ever got? Times are tight right now, you should see what Forehead and I are going through with boyfriends to shop for, and here you're sitting on a gold mine and you won't even tap into it?"

"That's j-just it!" Hinata defends herself. She pulls the scarf tighter around her neck to fight against the chilly December wind. It's colder in Konoha this winter than usual. "N-Naruto-kun doesn't h-have a lot of m-m-money right n-now."

"Oh, I get it," Sakura chimes in, comprehension in her bright green eyes. "You don't wanna show him up by buying him some big grandiose present that's so much better than whatever he gets for you. It'd make him uncomfortable."

Hinata nods. That's exactly it. She doesn't want to rely on her clan's money, nor does she want it to intimidate Naruto, who like the majority of their friends is pretty strapped for cash right now, in the rebuilding phase of post-war Konoha. Money isn't nearly as important to her as knowing he cares, so if Naruto gives her nothing for Christmas except a loving look, that's all she could ever dream to ask for.

She wants him to have something that's special because it wasn't purchased at a fancy store. She wants him to have something significant, that lets him know that she cares about him enough to devote time into it, and thought, something he will use and need and appreciate and enjoy and love, because she made it happen.

"I completely understand," Sakura says dryly. She plays with one of the braids in her hair, longer these days (maybe because the rumors were true, and Sasuke-san _does_ like girls with long hair) and adds, "I'm dating an Uchiha. Sasuke-kun has all the money in the world at his disposal. Do you have any idea how unfair that is, having to buy a gift for someone that loaded, knowing he can afford one for you that'll blow yours out of the water? I haven't taken a paycheck since we came home, I'm working at the hospital for free. But come Christmastime? What's my excuse? 'Oh, thanks for the lovely present, Sasuke-kun. But I didn't get you anything because my money's going to equipment sterilization and new bedpans. Merry Christmas!' It's been a nightmare."

"Personally, I d-don't have anymore extra m-m-money than anyone else," Hinata says. "The Clan's money is the Clan's m-money. So I d-don't want to t-t-touch it."

Ino rolls her eyes, and Sakura smiles supportively. Feeling a bit more confident in her idea, she asks, "Y-You know th-those pretty j-j-jade ramen chopsticks h-he almost n-never uses?"

"Yeah," Sakura replies. "He got 'em as a gift from the daimyo after one of his missions a few years back. They're his most prized possession, but he says he won't use them unless he has something equally nice to carry them around in."

"Well," Hinata says with a shy smile, "I th-think I might b-be able t-to g-give him th-that."

She leads her friends down a side street, to a little out-of-the-way stand that sells fine fabrics and yarn. Sakura and Ino are curious, and their reactions are similar, when they see the swath of fabric Hinata's pointing to.

It's bright, lurid orange silk.

"I w-want to s-s-sew him a r-ramen chopstick h-holder," she says, blushing furiously as she reveals her idea.

"It's perfect!" Sakura exclaims, laughing. "Well, actually, it's the ugliest color in the world, but for _Naruto?_ Hinata-chan he'll _love _it!"

"What about the price tag, though?" Ino wonders. "That's got to be more than you can afford if you're not gonna tap into the Hyuuga fortune."

Sakura looks disappointed when she sees how much the fabric costs, but Hinata's already considered that.

"To b-be able to afford it, I w-would have to s-sell something equally as v-v-valuable," she says. "Something p-personal, so N-Naruto-kun would know I s-sacrificed s-s-something for h-him."

"If that's true love," Ino mutters, "going without? Then I want no part of it."

"Quiet, Pig!" Sakura hisses. "Okay, Hinata-chan, what are you thinking of selling, then?"

Hinata smiles softly, and points to her long, long mane of black, shiny hair.

* * *

"If the daimyo ever finds out you used the jade chopsticks he gave you to make a haircomb for your girlfriend," Sasuke remarks dryly, "he might excommunicate you."

"Don't sound too worried, Teme! I might think you actually care!"

But Naruto's in too good a mood to really let Sasuke bother him. After a quick trip to one of the artisans in Konoha, who showed him how to do it, he's holding Hinata-chan's perfect gift in his hands: a beautiful jade haircomb made from the chopsticks he so valued. He's almost giddy with excitement. Here it is, the flawless present he was searching for. Equal parts finery and gesture, because jade is so valuable, and the chopsticks used to be his most prized possession. He's sacrificed both so Hinata-chan could have a great Christmas present, and he literally can't wait to give it to her.

It's Christmas Eve now, and he's going to meet Hinata-chan in two hours to exchange gifts. He sits down in his apartment to wrap it, Sasuke reluctantly showing him how, because Naruto almost never gives Christmas presents, and therefore has no idea how to wrap them properly. And no matter how pretty the gift itself is, he needs to have a way to present it that's just as pretty. He finds a nice box, and Sasuke shows him that if you use more than three pieces of tape to wrap it up, you're doing it wrong. Naruto folds the corners carefully, and tapes them up and it maybe isn't the best wrap job in the universe, but it isn't the worst, either.

He writes her name in careful kanji on the paper and stands back to admire his gift.

He's nailed it, he's really nailed it. It feels exhilarating, like when he mastered the Rasengan on the road with Jiraiya, or when he, Sasuke, Sakura-chan, and Kakashi-sensei killed Madara and ended the war, or when he kissed Hinata-chan for the first time. He's given away his most valuable possession so Hinata-chan could have something to pin her lovely hair back with, and every time she wore it, she would be reminded that he, Naruto, the future Hokage, put everything he had into it. She'd have no choice but to think of him! And giving her a present made of _jade?_ That was _bound_ to impress Hiashi-sama enough to let him date Hinata-chan for real!

"This is _definitely_ better than whatever lousy thing you bought for Sakura-chan!" he sneers, delighted with how well this is going to turn out.

"I didn't _buy_ anything for Sakura," Sasuke scoffs, but he still looks smug all the same. "And no. It's not better than what I'm giving her."

Naruto sees Sasuke surreptitiously grip something small in his pocket, presumably whatever he got for his girlfriend and their first Christmas together, but doesn't care enough to ask about it. Whatever it is, (probably stolen, if he didn't buy it) there's no chance it's better than Naruto's present for Hinata-chan. No chance in hell. The bastard's just showboating.

"What time is it, Teme?"

"Hn. Half past six."

The party is at seven o'clock at Training Ground Three; everyone will be there for the Christmas Eve gift exchange, and, Naruto realizes gleefully, all the ramen and sake his stomach can handle. His first _real_ Christmas party, where everyone will be home together and happy and celebrating…

"Then let's go!"

* * *

"I can't believe you went through with it!" Ino groans in agony.

"I can't believe you went through with it!" Sakura squeals in obvious delight.

Hinata looks at herself in the mirror, and can't believe she went through with it, either.

Her long black hair has been cut and sold to the wigmaker in Konoha; it now reaches only her chin in the flippy princess cut she wore as a genin, face-framing and very, very short. She misses her long hair already, since it had taken almost three years to grow, but she's also thrilled.

The money she made selling her hair went right to the orange silk fabric, and after sewing all night long, she's made a ramen chopsticks holder for Naruto-kun that he'll have no choice but to be proud of.

The three of them are dressed like civilians for the night, in pretty holiday dresses; Ino wears her hair down, Sakura wears her hair up, and Hinata wears her hair short, and with some expertly-applied makeup and a little holiday confidence, she doesn't feel as hopelessly unattractive as she usually does, when standing beside her infinitely more beautiful girlfriends. Hinata feels pretty, too, and on top of the world, because this present for Naruto-kun is perfect, and this night is going to be perfect as well.

"We're gonna be late," Sakura remarks, glancing at the clock on the wall in Hinata's bedroom. "Party starts at seven, right? We should get going."

She checks her reflection in Hinata's mirror nervously, even though she looks absolutely breathtaking, then slides a small package into the pocket of her little silver coat. Sasuke-san's present. Hinata wonders what it is.

It's very, very cold out, and she wants the big reveal of her new haircut to surprise Naruto-kun, so she hides her hair under a thick woolen cap. Dressed warm and looking pretty, three kunoichi girls leave the Hyuuga Compound for the Christmas Eve party, and Hinata glows, _glows_ beneath her woolen cap, because she's about to give the most important person in the world to her a present as special as he is.

And he will _love_ it.

Everyone's at Training Ground Three when Naruto and Sasuke arrive, except Hinata-chan, Sakura-chan, and Ino.

It's decorated beautifully, with an enormous evergreen tree adorned with holiday ornaments and bright lights in the center. Lanterns are lit overhead, small fires all throughout for warmth Picnic blankets are set up around it on the almost-frozen earth, and it's a crazy night to have a party outdoors, but there's no place in Konoha big enough to hold them all.

There's Neji under one of the trees with Tenten, holding a glass of water, her stomach bigger than usual in a pretty pink dress; Lee is not drinking either in a show of solidarity, which is only a good thing. Kiba's waiting for Ino with Akamaru, Shino quiet and forgettable beside them; Chouji's working through the Christmas ham that no one else has gotten to sample yet, while Shikamaru dozes off beside him like the whole party's too troublesome to even acknowledge. Baachan, Shizune, and Tonton are there, too, Baachan halfway through a bottle of sake while Shizune tries to clean her up; Kakashi-sensei's reading his little book and ignoring whatever stupid challenge Gai-sensei has assigned him, while Sai studiously paints the scene from the far corner. Suigetsu and Karin are arguing loudly while Juugo tries halfheartedly to break it up, and Moegi's trying to trap Konohamaru under a piece of mistletoe long enough to plant a kiss on him, while Udon watches in jealousy. And Kurenai sits on one of the blankets with her baby in her lap.

Naruto's heart expands at the sight of them all, and realizes that this must be what Christmas is all about. Coming together as a big, enormous, loving family, dysfunctional as hell, but _together_ on Christmas.

He can't even breathe around his excitement.

"Where's the girls?" he demands. "I can't wait another minute, I gotta give Hinata-chan her present!"

Sasuke, wearing a jacket now because they all know Sakura will scream at him if he doesn't, mumbles, "Over there."

Naruto looks up, breathless, and sees the girls, the last to arrive, all of them holding presents, dressed for the cold weather, and smiling. His eyes zero in on Hinata-chan, who looks pretty as a present in a green holiday dress, a cap on her head.

_She'll have to take that off so she can try on her new Hokage-approved haircomb,_ he thinks gleefully, sidestepping Sasuke and running across the field. He stops directly in front of his (almost) girlfriend and beams.

"Merry Christmas, Hinata-chan!" he exclaims, dizzy with joy that he has someone to say 'Merry Christmas' to. His fingers tremble around the box he's holding, and she's so, so, so pretty as she replies, breathless, "M-Merry Christmas, N-Naruto-k-kun!"

Naruto speaks loudly on purpose. He wants everyone looking, everyone admiring this moment. This is it: he's about to give Hinata-chan a gift so thoughtful, so generous, so _perfect_ that her father will have no choice but to accept him into the family. Hinata-chan deserves the best, and he's certain, he's _certain_, that he's accomplished that.

He's a man of his word.

He glimpses Sasuke take Sakura-chan's hand, say something quietly to her, and the two of them disappear behind the trees; nonplussed, he knows he has the attention of everyone else in attendance. Surely someone will break it to his teammates later the story of the great Uzumaki Naruto, and his flawless gift-giving abilities…he should really try and adapt this newfound skill into a jutsu…

"I got you a present!" he declares, shoving the box in front of her nose.

"Oh!" she exclaims, surprised and already delighted, if the blush on her face is any indication. With the light from the holiday lanterns overhead illuminating her face, she looks almost too pretty to be real. "I…I got you one, t-too," she adds shyly, and mitten-covered hands pull a small bag out of her pocket, that she offers to him.

This is it.

* * *

Hinata _glows_ as she accepts Naruto's present, but inside, she is full of apprehension.

What if he doesn't like her present? What if he thinks it's lame? What if he _laughs_ at it? She's come a long way, confidence-wise, over the past few years, but she knows she couldn't possibly handle a scenario like _that_ without passing out and ruining everyone's Christmas.

The excitement on his handsome, whiskered face is tangible as his hands claw at the wrapping paper, and she opens her present, too, just for something to do, because she's terrified. Mortified. Everyone's looking at them, with the notable exceptions of Sasuke and Sakura, who have vanished for some reason.

Hinata glances down at what she's holding in her hands, the wrapping paper discarded on the frosty ground, and her eyes widen.

Inside the box is the most beautiful haircomb she's ever seen. It's made of jade, and intricately wound; she wonders if Naruto's made this himself. She's delighted, she's _elated_ with this present, with how special it is, with its beauty, until she realizes, to her _horror_, that she cannot even use it.

Her hand flies up to her cap-covered hair, newly-shorn, to finance the present she bought for Naruto.

Terrified now, she looks up at him and sees him staring into the box, looking equally as horrified as she feels. _He hates it,_ she thinks in dread, lightheaded already. _He hates that stupid present, God, Ino-chan was right! I should've just bought him something huge! Why did I do this? I cut my hair off for this! And now I can't even use this beautiful, wonderful present he got for me, and what's it all FOR?_

"It's…it's a chopstick holder," she stammers, tears in her eyes. "For…for your j-j-jade chopsticks."

"Hinata-chan…" Naruto murmurs, transfixed on the present, and Hinata regrets every hour she spent tediously sewing that stupid, expensive fabric together. What a stupid idea. What a _stupid_ waste of time! "It's…it's so, so awesome…did you make this?"

"Y-Yes," she manages timidly. He's saying it's awesome? Then why does he look so upset? "Do…you l-like it?"

"It's the best present anyone's ever gotten for me," he tells her, and his eyes meet hers, and there's sincerity there. Naruto doesn't lie. He really does like it. But why is he acting so strange, then? "But…Hinata-chan…"

She's more aware than ever of the audience gathered around them, and can't bear to lift her eyes to any of them. It's the most painfully awkward situation she's ever been in, and on _Christmas Eve,_ no less. She wants to run away from the awkwardness, take Naruto's beautiful haircomb and find some place to hide for years, until her hair grows back and she can wear it. She wishes Sakura-chan were there, Sakura-chan who's always so good at diffusing the tension in times like these, who always knows what to say…

"I don't…have those chopsticks anymore," Naruto finishes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He chuckles, but it's nervous.

"You…don't?" she echoes. "Oh. Well, th-that's okay…"

"No, it's not," he groans. "See, times are tight for me right now, but I still wanted to get you a really, really awesome gift for Christmas since you _deserve_ it…and all I had around my apartment that's worth anything are those jade chopsticks from the daimyo. So I…" He sighs, and points to the haircomb she's holding in trembling fingers. "I traded it in for that. Had the artisan use the jade to make a haircomb for you."

Hinata's eyes widen as she realizes what this means.

Naruto sold his most valuable possession, transformed it into a pretty gift for her. And it's one that she can't even _use_ right now, with her hair too short to pin back. In the meantime, she cut off her hair to sell for the material to make him a holder for his chopsticks, which _he_ can't use right now.

Bizarrely, she starts to laugh.

"H-Hinata-chan?" he asks anxiously, because she's certain she must look demented right now, head thrown back in laughter, when really, this is almost a tragedy. But she can't help it. It's so hilariously ironic, and it warms her heart.

"Then it l-looks like b-both of us are i-i-idiots," she giggles, and she reaches up, takes hold of the wool cap on her head, and pulls it off. Short black hair tumbles down to her chin, and everyone watching them gasps. "I…I wanted to give you s-something s-special for Christmas, N-Naruto-kun. But I w-wanted to use m-my own m-money, s-s-same as you. So I…sold my h-hair."

She laughs harder now, because he finally gets it.

Each of them gave up their most valuable item to buy a gift for the other; and subsequently, they bought things that were entirely useless after the fact. She'd cut off her hair, only to receive a jade haircomb from Naruto, made from the chopsticks he'd traded in, without which, her orange, finely-crafted chopsticks holder was completely useless.

Naruto's eyes widen in understanding, and then he's laughing, too.

Soon, everyone joins in, because it's ironic, and it's beautiful, and it's funny, and it's awful, and it's a Christmas miracle.

Because Hinata has gotten exactly what she wanted for Christmas: proof, that Uzumaki Naruto, her almost-boyfriend, is equally as devoted to her as she is to him. She doesn't need a present, not when he's proven it with his actions, with his sacrifice, with the good intent that was all exclusively for her.

She's gotten confirmation for Christmas, and it's all she could ever want.

She ignores the fact that everyone's still watching them, amused and full of Christmas spirit, and she gives Naruto a present he'll have no choice but to return:

A kiss, right on the lips, under the soft warm lantern light just as the clock strikes twelve.

* * *

Naruto thinks he's never loved anything as much as he loves this orange chopsticks holder. It's got love in every stitch. It's his favorite color, and he's gonna keep it forever. Until he does another dangerous mission for another fabulously wealthy daimyo, and gets another pair of chopsticks he can hold inside it. Hinata-chan hugs the haircomb to her chest, and soon enough, her hair will be long enough to wear it.

In the meantime, she looks cute as a button with her princess cut, and he loves her even more for what she's done for him.

She kisses him, and he sees stars, and he's vaguely aware that Neji, who typically forbids any romantic touching of his cousin, is strangely silent. Maybe this is tacit approval? Maybe Neji's giving them his blessing, and he's one step closer to winning the approval of the Hyuuga Clan?

Maybe, Hinata-chan's his actual girlfriend now.

And that's the best Christmas present of all.

Two people emerge from the trees, and Naruto dazedly registers the presence of his teammates. Sasuke is smirking, widely, his arm draped loosely around Sakura-chan's shoulders. She's fiercely blushing, and Naruto catches the glint of something shiny reflected off her finger. More specifically, the fourth finger of her left hand.

Shock turns to outrage, and he shouts, "YOU JUST HAD TO ONE-UP ME, DIDN'T YOU, TEME?!"

* * *

**note..** Well, hello there! I thought I'd try a little Naru/Hina-centric ficlet on for size. Did you enjoy? Is your heart sufficiently warmed? Or did I totally miss the mark? Let me know!

Also: big ups to anyone who can spot the Spongebob reference in here that I am entirely too immature to have included. (Old Spongebob? Fucking hilarious. New Spongebob? Really, really creepy. Unsettling, even. Agree/Disagree?) Get at me, readers, you know me by now :) And thank you, thank you, thank you for your support!

xoxo Daisy 3


	3. Here Comes Neji Claus

Title : Here Comes Neji Claus

Description : A botched escort mission to Suna has unexpected consequences. Of the humiliating, degrading, dehumanizing variety.

Pairings : Neji/Tenten, the teeniest moment of Sasuke/Sakura

Category : Humor/Romance

Note : I don't even know.

* * *

The indignity.

The sheer _indignity._

"Oh come on, Santa," Tenten teased, grinning from under her floppy elf hat. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Neji, dressed head to toe in a Santa Claus outfit, begged to fucking _differ._

* * *

It all started on a botched mission to Suna.

Luckily, it was a very low-rank assignment, a simple escort mission. (As if the Hokage-in-Training needed any extra protection.) Normally, Team 7 would travel with Naruto on his two-day journey, but Sasuke and Sakura were away on their honeymoon, and couldn't come along. Therefore, he, Tenten, and Lee had been recruited for the job.

For four high-ranking Leaf jonin, this should not have been anything short of effortless.

As it was, however, Neji-taichou had, to use the professional phrase, _fucked everything up_ by losing his temper with Naruto. And it couldn't have been helped; without the no-nonsense presence of his own teammates, who Neji knew would never allow anything other than perfect behavior from the future Hokage, Naruto lost complete control of himself. He kept referring to himself as "His Lord Eminent Hokage" whenever they stopped in a small village for rest, expected Neji and the others to carry his belongings for him, and at one point wrestled the map away from navigator Tenten, insisting he knew a faster route to Suna and she was reading the map wrong. Even Lee looked worn down by Naruto's increasingly ridiculous antics.

Well, Neji, at that point, lost his temper. He wasn't necessarily proud of it, but it was so agonizingly hot in Suna, and Naruto's behavior was completely out of line. Without Sasuke to threaten him with bodily harm whenever he acted up, and without Sakura to exact bodily harm whenever that failed, Naruto lost his head. It was like working with a small child, and Neji knew only way to deal with unruly children:

To scream in their faces.

So about an hour outside of Suna, thoroughly fed up with a younger, brasher, more-annoying-than-ever Naruto, finally snapped, and seized the shinobi he was meant to be escorting by the collar of his black-and-orange jacket.

"Now listen here, Uzumaki," Neji growled, taking a primal enjoyment in the way Naruto's eyes widened in fear. "I've had enough of your bullshit. You better settle down and fly straight, you understand me? Or I'll give you a beating so bad, not even the _Hokage_ will be able to put you right."

After that, Naruto was nothing short of perfectly well-behaved, Lee and Tenten were grateful for his intervention, and Neji had a whole new appreciation for the other members of Team 7. The rest of the mission went off without a hitch, but apparently Naruto went straight to Tsunade-sama to tattle on him for losing his temper.

He was summoned to Hokage Tower the same night he returned, along with Tenten and Lee; Tsunade-sama was glaring at them when he stepped into the office, and she turned her focus onto him.

"You were captain on the recent escort mission to Suna, were you not, Hyuuga Neji?" she demanded.

"Yes, Tsunade-sama."

"And it was your mission, was it not, to see that your charge, a fellow Konoha shinobi, was delivered safely and securely to his destination, and back again?"

"It was, Tsunade-sama."

"Then would you mind explaining to me why Uzumaki Naruto ran into my office crying that you used the _Byakugan_ on him, threatened his life, and ordered him to, 'settle down and fly straight?'"

Neji heard Tenten stifle a giggle beside him, and had to wonder if what was happening was even serious.

"With all due respect, Tsunade-sama, I never used the Byakugan. He is exaggerating."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed, and she rose from her chair, slamming her open palms on her desk and leaning over to glare at him closer.

"Now listen to me, you pompous little Hyuuga brat," she growled, and Neji had to wonder if it was just Konoha that was home to such terrifying women, or if other ninja villages experienced the same frightening infestation. "You have a responsibility as a jonin of Konoha to see to it that missions are executed _to the letter._ I should not have a shinobi, even one as witless as Naruto, running to me in tears thinking his own comrade is out to flay the skin off his back. This sort of going off half-cocked will not be tolerated, least of all in a shinobi of your caliber, who has always been renowned for his self-restraint."

Neji knew he was being scolded, and knew he was supposed to lower his head in shame, but he literally couldn't believe what was happening. Did she know _nothing?_ This was _Naruto_ they were talking about. Naruto who, despite being an excellent shinobi and the best hope for their generation, seemed to have a Master's Degree in being a crazy fool. Even the strongest shinobi wouldn't be immune to his ridiculous antics! Was he really being _censured_ for this?

"I apologize, Tsunade-sama," he intoned, simply because he had to follow protocol, even if this whole thing was a sham. He made a mental note to find Naruto and give him a real reason to run crying to older women. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't!" she snapped. "I'll see to it myself that you learn the proper way to address a small child!"

Neji's jaw nearly dropped.

"You're comparing _Naruto_ to a small child?" he choked out. Tenten giggled out loud this time.

"He's got the temperament of a five-year-old, something you know damn well," Tsunade snapped. "If you can't handle him, how can you be expected to handle a Hyuuga heir? Children are twice as needy as Naruto, and three times as helpless!"

"Yeah, and eight times smarter," Neji snapped before he could stop himself. "Tsunade-sama, with all due respect, I…"

"You're in a hell of a lot of trouble, Hyuuga, and you're only making things worse! Now let me explain to you what's gonna happen. I'm gonna see to it that you work on your skills with children, and trust me, _they need work,_ as punishment for the piss-poor job you did as captain on this mission. And you're gonna take your teammates with you."

* * *

And that was how Tsunade forced him into being the Santa Claus at the festival on Christmas Eve.

It was degrading. It was _humiliating._ He was stuck wearing a giant red Santa suit, full of stuffing to simulate heaviness, a scratchy white beard on his chin and a ridiculous hat on his head. To add insult to injury, his Hyuuga eyes betrayed his identity to everyone who knew who he was, so sitting on a Santa throne in the Santa Claus Meet-and-Greet Pavilion was equivalent to being forced into a pillory.

Tenten, dressed as Santa's Elf, wasn't helping matters.

"Now, listen, Neji-kun, it's only for a few hours," she said soothingly, fluffing his beard for him while in the crowd, Kiba and Shikamaru howled with laughter. "The kids are already lined up, and at ten am, we'll start marching them in. How bad can it be? I bet no one even knows it's you!"

"Oi, HYUUGA!" shouted Kiba. "GUESS YOU MADE THE NAUGHTY LIST, HUH?"

"Byakugan!" hissed Neji, but Tenten stopped him.

"Hey, knock it off!" she scolded, and he glared at her; her pointed elf ears were crooked, but he didn't point that out, in the hopes that she would look more stupid than him. "Tsunade-sama's making us do this for a reason. She's right, you need some experience with children! You're too strict and then if someone acts up, you resort to violence right away. You need to work on your patience, understand?"

He was still fuming, but Tenten had a way of softening his temper. And she did have a point, as did the Hokage; he didn't want to be some loose cannon father who screamed his head off at his kid for every little thing. He just didn't have the experience growing up of being around children. Wasn't nurturing, and couldn't relate to them even in the slightest.

It was something he definitely needed to work on. And from ten am to eight pm Christmas Eve, he'd have nothing but time to work on it.

"Fine," he ground out bitterly, and Tenten grinned.

"Great!" she said. "And don't worry, Neji. How many children could Konoha possibly have?"

* * *

Neji stopped counting at 316.

Children of all shapes and sizes, civilians and Academy students, lined up with their parents to have their pictures taken with Santa. Neji knew his lines well: "Well hello little boy/girl. What would you like for Christmas this year?" They would answer with some ridiculous thing, and then they'd take a picture, and be on their way.

Ideally, that was how it should have gone.

Realistically, it was a disaster.

Child 53 had fleas.

Child 77 picked her nose the whole time.

Child 144 was not a child at all, but a civilian girl in her teens who recognized him as 'that gorgeous Hyuuga Neji' and just wanted to sit on his lap for a few minutes. (She'd been dragged by Santa's Little Elf Tenten out of the Pavilion.)

Child 193 seemed to be infected with some type of whooping cough, which he felt the need to share with Neji Claus by coughing right the fuck in his face.

On child 209, a very enormous boy named Makoto, he was already covered in baby spit-up and smeared with something brown he _really_ hoped was chocolate, and running out of patience. Lee, the photographer, beamed from behind the camera and exalted, "Ah, Santa Claus! Such a youthful display!"

Makoto hopped up onto his knee, which nearly broke under his weight. And he was a trained shinobi, which was saying something. Subtly, he channeled a bit of extra chakra into his knee to make his girth a bit more bearable, and he bit out, "Hello, little…er…hello, boy. What would you like for Christmas this year?"

Somehow, addressing him as 'little' felt like little more than lying under oath. Tenten glared at him but he ignored her.

"Pizza!" he snapped. "Hey, your beard looks fake. Are you sure you're Santa?"

"I'm sure," he said stiffly. "And wouldn't you rather have a salad for Christmas?"

"I SAID I WANT PIZZA!" he bellowed in his face. Growling, he entertained a brief but very graphic fantasy in which he wrung him by his wide neck in front of his stupid parents, but settled for just patting him awkwardly on the head.

"Fine," he snapped. "Let's take the picture already."

"Smile youthfully for the camera!" Lee cried, snapping a photo, and Neji almost threw the kid off of his lap.

"Okay, kids!" Tenten addressed the others waiting in line. "Santa's gonna take a little break to feed the reindeer. He'll be back in twenty minutes!"

With that, she snatched Neji by the elbow and dragged him into the dressing tent behind Santa's Pavilion.

"You're not trying at all, are you?" she demanded, chocolate brown eyes full of anger.

"What do you mean, I'm not trying?" he snapped. He ripped off his stupid Santa beard and shook it in her face. "What do you think this is, woman? I am a _Hyuuga._ But I'm reduced to sitting in a throne of humiliation all day, while countless Konoha children smear their bodily fluids on me and my shinobi peers, many of whom are my _subordinates_, mock me and my impunity! This is an _egregious_ abuse of the Hokage's power, a _sham_ of a disciplinary action, and a _collossal dishonor_ to the Hyuuga Clan!"

Tenten smacked him so hard upside the head that his Santa hat toppled off, and a long sheet of black hair tumbled down his shoulders. He was sure this only added to the sheer ridiculousness of his appearance right now, but had little time to dwell on that as Tenten seized him by the furry collar of his Santa coat and dragged him down to her eye level.

"YOU'RE a dishonor to the Hyuuga Clan!" she shouted. "You couldn't even tell Makoto-chan that he was 'little,' and when he told you what he wanted for Christmas, you suggested _salad._"

"He'll thank me for it someday," he insisted, but Tenten let out a snarl of frustration.

"Newsflash, Santa Claus, this isn't how I wanted to spend _my_ Christmas Eve _either._ But because you couldn't be just a tinge nicer to Naruto, you landed me AND Lee in this ridiculous waste of time. So I suggest _you_ settle down and fly straight before I shove a holly jolly Christmas wreath so far up your asshole, you'll be choking out mistletoe and holly. You understand?"

Neji threw her a filthy glare before snatching his Santa hat and clapping it back on top of his head.

"Don't forget your beard," she said with an evil smile, and Neji wondered why the pretty girls always had to be so crazy. It wasn't just Tenten, either; there was Sakura, who terrified him at the hospital, and Ino, who terrified him on recon missions, and Tsunade-sama, who terrified him every waking moment of his life. It seemed the prettier the girl, the more psychotic.

"Let's just get this over with," he snarled, fixing his beard. Without another word at his stupid little Elf, he stalked back to the Pavilion, took a seat again on Santa's throne, and barked for the next child.

* * *

When eight pm finally rolled around, every single child in Konoha had seen Neji Claus, given him their wishlists, and left for the Christmas Festival fireworks. Lee was running around Konoha distributing photos of happy children and their light-eyed, subtly furious Santa Claus to anyone who would take them (Kiba bought every single copy, and Neji made a mental note to _annihilate_ the kid before New Years').

He ripped off his Santa beard and threw it as far as he could, sinking in his Santa throne and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That was awful," he groaned to Tenten, who had just put up the Closed sign on the pavilion door. He screwed his eyes shut to battle off a horrendous headache, but was interrupted by a light pressure on his bruised, aching lap.

Santa's Little Elf had thrown herself across his knee, legs propped up on the armrest of his chair, brown eyes scintillating as they looked up at him in open seduction.

"Not so fast, Santa Claus," she breathed, and he felt something stir in his stomach that was, for the first time that day, _not_ complete and utter revulsion. "What about my wish list?"

Neji smirked, and decided to play along with his wife.

"I don't know, Mrs. Claus," he remarked. "I think you've been rather naughty this year."

"But don't you think I should get a present all the same? Because I got one for you."

"Did you now? And what exactly is that present?"

"Well, it's…"

But inches away from his wife's lips, the pavilion door was thrown open, and in pranced Uzumaki Naruto himself. The very reason Neji had spent Christmas Eve being spit up on, humiliated, abused, degraded, dishonored. Possibly peed on. In no time at all, he'd jumped off Santa's throne, nearly sending Tenten flying in the process, and had the future Hokage in a headlock.

"Easy, Neji, easy!" Naruto yelped. "I didn't see anything, I swear!"

"You little tattletale _moron!_" Neji snarled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear your head off!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Neji, let him go!" Tenten shouted. "He's turning blue!"

With great effort, Neji released Naruto from his chokehold; the Hokage-in-training immediately backflipped out of his reach, massaging his neck and looking even dumber than usual.

"What the hell was that for, you crazy Hyuuga?" he demanded. "Baachan sent me here to tell you that you passed your disciplinary mission, and to go enjoy the rest of the night."

"I intend to," Neji hissed, activating his bloodline limit, fully ready to disable Naruto's entire chakra network so he would _never_ be Hokage, but Naruto, oblivious as ever, kept rambling on.

"Yeah, she's been really weird lately," he said, clueless to the fact that he was about to have his spinal column ripped out of his mouth. "Like that whole mission to Suna? She paid me extra to be double annoying to you guys."

Neji froze. Tenten's jaw dropped beside him.

"You mean…" she gasped. "You were just _pretending_ to be a ridiculous douchebag?"

Naruto blinked innocently.

"Yeah…you didn't know? The old bat paid me off to call myself 'Great Hokage Naruto' and to get you guys to carry my stuff and shit. I was wondering why you freaked out so bad on me just before Suna…"

Neji couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He'd been set up.

By that malignant _bitch_ of a Hokage.

"You're telling me," he whispered, "that throughout that whole mission, Tsunade-sama paid you to annoy the hell out of us, and you never stopped to question why?"

"It's Christmas," Naruto replied with a shrug. "I needed the extra money. What's the big deal?"

"She set me up," Neji snarled. "Unbelievable! She set me up so I'd be forced to spend my whole Christmas Eve pretending to be nice to children!"

"Uh," Naruto said dumbly.

"Hey, wait a second!" Tenten exclaimed. "Maybe it had something to do with what I told Tsunade-sama a few days ago. You got some really good practice in, didn't you?"

"Practice for what?" Neji shot back, frustrated with every facet of his life.

To his surprise, Tenten only smirked, then grabbed his hand, and pressed it against her flat stomach. Confused, he looked down at her to see what she was doing, and she merely met his gaze and replied, "For the Christmas present you won't get for another nine months."

* * *

**note..** my first shot at a neji/tenten short. i hope i pulled it off. i'm way more comfortable writing sasu/saku.


	4. I'll Be Home for Christmas

Title : I'll Be Home for Christmas

Description : The days stretch and strain, and no word from the frontlines. New York City is empty without him, and so is her heart.

Pairing : Sasuke/Sakura (of course.)

Category : Romance/Hurt/Comfort

* * *

Christmas Eve in New York always takes her breath away. Even if it's wartime, and most of the city's money is being channeled directly overseas to the boys who need it, somehow, there's still a beautiful tree in Rockefeller Square, and lights from the buildings and up and down Broadway make it feel the way Christmas should feel.

Her boots crunch on the snow underfoot, and she wraps her peacoat tighter around herself, wishing she'd opted for something a bit warmer than her prettiest dress, the red one with the white polka dots. The one he bought for her last Christmas. Her heart twists a little as her thoughts return inevitably to him, and she sighs into her thick woolen scarf.

Christmas 1942, and she misses her fiancee.

She counts herself among the thousands of other women who wander the streets at night, too intimidated by resounding silences in their homes to stick around, even as the temperatures drop and all she really wants is a seat by the fire. She sees herself reflected in the faces of these meandering ladies, sees the same hollowness, the same sense of loss permeated by the same undercurrent of longing, and even if no one speaks to her as she treks aimlessly through Times Square, she realizes that in her loneliness, she isn't alone.

The war is raging overseas, and her fiancee, 19 years old and in tiptop physical condition, was drafted several months ago. She hears from him now and then, by hurriedly-written letter. Sometimes she doesn't, and now is one of those times. It's been weeks, and no word, and she's drowning in fear.

It isn't that she needs him to take care of her. She's always done a wonderful job of taking care of herself; in fact, it's one of the things that drew him to her in the first place. She's in medical school, and moonlights as a nurse while she's studying to be a doctor. It's a difficult field for a woman, or at least it was, until most of the able-bodied men were drafted into the army and suddenly, there are a lot of job openings back in the USA.

Not that she ever needed Rosie the Riveter to tell her that it was her patriotic duty as a woman to get out of the kitchen.

She doesn't miss him the way other women miss their significant others: if he dies, it won't leave her homeless, destitute, without options.

If he dies, it will leave her without a heart.

She bites her lip against the chilly December wind, and thinks that maybe that's worse.

* * *

She pictures his death a thousand times, in a thousand ways.

It's not a very cheerful Christmas Eve thought, as she pauses at a bench in Central Park. The same one he proposed to her at, the night before he was shipped overseas. But she can't stop it. Every day that passes between letters reminds her that more and more American heroes are being shipped back home in body bags. More and more of the women she knows are receiving telegrams from the War Department, the worst kinds of telegrams, with their husbands' helmets delivered with tightly-wound American flags.

She can't help the thoughts that rage through her mind. She imagines him dying on the battlefield, mostly, dying the only way a man like him could ever die: with dignity, with honor, and most likely in the place of someone else. He's the type to think things through, to act with cool logic, to strike lethally and so, so quick, it's hard to imagine anyone could have gotten the jump on him, but he's also something of a reckless hero. If one of his fellow soldiers was in trouble, she knows he's the type to intervene first, ask questions later.

She pictures what his body would look like. As handsome as he was in life, surely, his pale skin whitened in death, his fine features frozen; the blood, certainly, would be stark red against the camo standards, and…

She chokes off that train of thought as a sob threatens. She can't think on it anymore. It's hard to eat lately, harder to sleep, and even with a fulltime job and a fulltime school schedule, even though she fills her days to distract herself, her primary concern is hoping, wishing, praying against all odds that no messenger from the War Department ever shows up to their tiny little apartment with a folded flag and 'his deepest condolences on behalf of the United States of America.'

She sighs to herself, forces back the tears (what good will they do her, anyway? Or him?) and looks out at Central Park. It's beautiful, still, even if New York City is a little drearier, a little colder than usual. A thick blanket of snow conceals the dead brown grass from view, adds some shine to the leafless trees; the lake is frozen in some places, near the banks, and when it starts to snow again, it's quiet. It's beautifully quiet.

And she misses him so badly it's like a physical ache. And surely it's a selfish, selfish thing, to want him to come back before the war's over; to want him to be the exception among all the poor young boys forced away from their mothers and fathers and friends and wives and children and girlfriends, to want him to turn his back on his civic duty and return to her. But she can't stop it. Every day that passes, every night she spends in a bed that's too big, every morning she wakes up, smiles, rolls over to kiss a man who's in Poland, or maybe Normandy…the ache worsens.

Beneath her mitten, she feels the ring he gave her before he left. With a quiet, sincere 'Wait for me,' and the unspoken 'I love you' that she'd felt in every fiber of her being. The promise in his goodbye kiss that he would come back to her, that all these months of separation and blind faith would be rewarded.

Is it wrong of her to doubt him now?

It's been weeks, and no word. She knows what that means. Maybe she's never left New York City, maybe she isn't as worldly as other girls and certainly nowhere near as worldwise, but she knows what weeks and weeks of silence means. Something's not right. Something's gone wrong. He knows to write to her if he can, knows she'll work herself into a frenzy if he doesn't. He'd call her annoying for it, certainly, but he also knows to write.

_And what am I supposed to do without you, soldier?_ She thinks dazedly, her gaze skyward at the snowflakes trickling down like pieces into place. _What am I supposed to do if you don't come back?_

She doesn't have an answer, and she's the kind of girl who needs them to survive. Too many questions, not enough answers, and she feels herself going insane, little by little. Out of her mind with worry, and out of her mind with fear, that the boy she loves might die a thousand miles away from her, that he will never have a chance to return the heart he took with him that terrible day in January.

There are children's excitable shouts in the distance, and the ringing of bells. She pushes her coat sleeve back to glance at her watch, and sees that it's a minute to midnight. Christmas is almost here, and she's alone, and she's terrified.

Like it's New Years Eve, like everything's fine, she counts down in her head. Pretends that it's last Christmas, and the party at their favorite dive is in full swing. That their friends surround them and he's got her in his arms as they sloppily recite the countdown in messy unison, drunk off bathtub gin and each other, delirious in their happiness. That he kisses her at precisely midnight, tasting like alcohol and something spicy, his body warm against hers, gin sloshing out of his stein and splashing the pretty dress he bought for her. And then he whispers 'Merry Christmas' into her ear because he's never been a man of many words, but in that sweet holiday sentiment, he concentrates all the love in the world.

And she loses herself to the memory of Christmas Past, tears in her eyes as she finishes the countdown out loud.

"Three. Two. One."

And a voice from behind her, startling in its deep, dark quality and also its familiarity, promptly murmurs, "Merry Christmas."

Oh, God, now she's hearing him, too. It's not enough that she sees him everywhere, sees him on the streets, in the hospital beds, every morning when she wakes up only to remember that he isn't there. No, that's not enough. In her Christmas hysteria, she's got to hear his voice, too, rich like chocolate, so loud and clear it's like he's right behind her.

"What'd I tell you about wandering around at night?" he chastises.

Deciding to indulge in this beautiful delusion, she smiles crookedly to herself and answers, "That I shouldn't do it. But I can take care of myself, Sasuke."

Still, she doesn't turn around, because if she does, she will see that there's no one there, no one behind her, nothing but the wind and the snow-capped trees and her own frightening loneliness. She keeps her eyes up to the skies, riding this fantasty for as long as her mind will allow her to.

"I came all this way and you won't even look at me?" he snaps, no real venom in his voice, not ever when he speaks to her. To the rest of the world, he's cold and aloof. To the rest of the world, his heart's an impenetrable fortress and his kindest words are quips and subtle slurs. To the rest of the…

Wait.

If this is only a fantasty, it's an especially cruel one. Usually her daydreams of reuniting with him end after a few seconds, but this one's taking a lot longer. She shakes her head, pink curls whipping back and forth at her shoulders.

"There's no point. I'll turn around and you won't be there."

There's a scoff, and then an order that's almost a plea. "Sakura. Turn around."

When has she ever been able to really, truly defy him? Even his _apparition_ demands her cooperation, and she stands, and slowly turns, and then her purse drops to the snow along with her jaw. The tears in her eyes spill forward, half-freezing on her snow-kissed cheeks, and she's too stunned to speak.

Because standing behind her with a light smirk on his face, dressed in army standards with his arm in a sling, is Sasuke.

"It can't be," she whispers to herself.

She doesn't move for a minute, and neither does he. Instead, they stare at each other, Sakura drinking him in like she'll never be able to get enough. He's taller, she thinks, taller than she remembers him to be, or maybe now that he's a soldier, he stands up straighter, carries himself better. His hair's neatly combed to the side, and her hands itch to mess it up again, to restore the rebellious spikes that tickle her face when he leans in to kiss her. His eyes, even from a few yards away, are as dark and intense as ever, his jaw strong, his shoulders broad and he looks like a soldier. Wounded, but somehow immortal.

She doesn't trust her eyes. She doesn't trust her ears. But when Sasuke holds out his uninjured arm, fingers extended towards her in invitation, she trusts her heart. Her purse forgotten on the snow, she runs, _runs_ to him, launches herself into his arms and bursts into tears of joy.

"You're here!" she sobs, as his free arm holds her tight, wraps securely around her entire body and brings her close. "Sasuke…you…oh my _God!_"

She feels him smirk against her neck, before he tilts her face towards his and kisses her for all he's worth. Her arms wrap around his neck and she loses herself to this reality that's too good not to be a fantasy, tears of shock and joy streaming down her cheeks and soaking her scarf.

He tastes like he used to, smells like he used to, feels like he used to. Maybe he's a little stronger, the corded muscles in his arms and legs a little tighter, his chest harder, and when she pulls back to look at him some more, feverishly, like an addict, she spies a scar on his neck, and another one on his temple, near his hairline. He's more than just Sasuke now, more than just a city cop and more than her fiancee. He's a soldier now. It shows in his gait, in his strut, in his posture, in his eyes. In his wounds, and in the set of his jaw.

A hero.

Her heart nearly bursts with love, with pride, because this man, this American hero, is _hers._ And he's _alive._ And he's here in Central Park where they got engaged last year, with her, in one piece, and he's home in time for Christmas.

"You…you stopped writing," she chokes. "I thought…"

"Got hit," he explains, in his usual brief, curt way. No unnecessary details, nothing extraneous, nothing more than what she needs to know and he feels like saying. "Sniper, just outside Warsaw." He indicates his wounded arm, and the doctor inside of her itchees to take a look at it, to see if there's anything she can do to heal it, anything she can do to heal him, but there'll be time for that later, she hopes.

"Are you…I mean…do you have to go back? Or…"

"I have two weeks," he tells her quietly, his eyes searching hers, and though it's a blow, it's not a crushing one. Because she has two weeks with her fiancee, two weeks she never even thought to ask for, before he's got to return to the firefight and she's got to return to waiting for a letter in the best case scenario, dreading a telegram in the worst. "But…Sakura it's only a matter of time. There's no way we can lose."

He speaks it with boyish certainty, and she's reminded of the fact that even though he's a war hero now, a great American soldier and the pride of the nation, he's still the arrogant jerk who stole her heart in grammar school. That foolish, empty threat of youthful immortality, but somehow, it gives her hope. Hope that even if they have to part again, he'll be home, too brave and too fast and too arrogant to die in European hell.

She doesn't want to think about that right now, though. She smiles through her tears, runs her fingers through his hair, and drinks him in.

"I missed you," she whispers. "Oh God I missed you so much!"

"Aa," he replies quietly, and he kisses her again.

And a Christmas miracle happens right there in Central Park. Christmas, 1942, and Sakura is reunited with her fiancee in the snow, at the bench where he made her dreams come true not once, but twice. And their time is limited, before he's torn from her again and she's left to wait and wonder and wish and worry. And two weeks won't be enough, but it's more than she ever thought to ask for. Her hope restored, her faith restored, her heart bursting with love, she kisses him back, then stands on tiptoe in her prettiest dress to whisper in his ear:

"Welcome home, soldier."

* * *

**note..** and back to my comfort zone. another sasu/saku ww2 i will make no apologies for. what'd you think?

thank you for reading!

xoxo daisy :)


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